


Here for You

by EuphoricOblivion (EndlessNepenthe)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Iwaizumi and Oikawa go to different universities, M/M, Super Soft, Their first winter apart, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16366964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessNepenthe/pseuds/EuphoricOblivion
Summary: This was the first time that they actually had time to meet up since university started for the two of them, but they had been awkward around each other - texting in place of calling, their texts short and painfully polite, the contents of their texts blatantly avoiding the real topics they wanted to discuss, instead focusing on things as trivial as the weather - ever since they had revealed to each other the universities that they were going to be attending.





	Here for You

**Author's Note:**

> Yay I'm back with another super domestic soft IwaOi~
> 
> Happy early Halloween to those who celebrate it! :)

_Iwa-chan, you’re at home, right?_

Iwaizumi frowns at the text, sending a short _yea_ in response to the question.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi had ended up going to different universities, and it was the first winter break that they were spending apart from each other. During high school, they had once spent a summer break apart due to parent imposed vacations to different places, and their last summer break before university was spent packing and moving into different apartment rooms near their respective universities. In short, this was the first time that they actually had time to meet up since university started for the two of them, but they had been awkward around each other - texting in place of calling, their texts short and painfully polite, the contents of their texts blatantly avoiding the real topics they wanted to discuss, instead focusing on things as trivial as the weather - ever since they had revealed to each other the universities that they were going to be attending.

Being as stubborn as they were, they both refused to acknowledge their shared obvious desire to meet up and have a long overdue conversation about everything and anything they could think of.

Iwaizumi hated to admit it, but he missed Oikawa’s voice.

Glancing out the window, Iwaizumi watches the snow drift down, thick white flakes almost glowing against the dark backdrop of the night sky. His gaze darts from the sight outside the window toward his apartment door and back again, expression contemplative with a slight hint of irritation. He purses his lips for a second before standing quickly.

Rushing around his apartment, Iwaizumi grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, his hurried pace dwindling down to an indecisive shuffle once he arrives at his apartment door. Gradually, he pulls on his jacket, shoving his wallet and keys into the pockets, staring down at the black screen of his phone. He shoves the phone into one of his pockets with more force than necessary, painstakingly zipping and buttoning up his winter jacket.

Iwaizumi steps out of his apartment, pulling the door closed behind him - it automatically locks with a _click._ He pulls his hood up over his head, the thick fur lined edge of it perfect for protecting his face from the cold winds of the winter, but also slightly hindering his sight. His mind balks at the idea of going outside, but his feet continue stepping forward.

As Iwaizumi walks the around 25 minute walk to the train station closest to his apartment, he takes the time to convince himself that he is going to the convenience store near the station instead of the station itself (even though there is a convenience store much closer to his apartment). When he is only a few minutes away, he realizes that he really does need to make a trip to the store - he is nearly out of toothpaste.

Scowling at the snow that only seemed to be coming down harder with each passing second, Iwaizumi strides briskly through the automatic doors of the convenience store, pushing back his hood and running a hand through his flattened hair. He diligently removes all the snow that he had brought into the store - stomping his feet and shaking his jacket - leaving the melting flakes on the many large black mats meant to catch snow at the front of the store. One of the workers restocking the shelves nearby catches his eye and sends him a grateful smile; Iwaizumi dips his head in a nod in return before wandering toward the toiletry area of the store.

After grabbing three tubes of the toothpaste brand he liked, Iwaizumi spots a sale for shampoo - he hesitates for just half a minute before his resolve crumbles just as quickly as the few snowflakes caught in the cuff of his jacket sleeve melted in the heated interior of the convenience store he was in. Tucking a bottle under his arm, Iwaizumi carries the other in a hand, hurrying towards the check out area to pay before anything slipped from his grasp.

He quietly thanks the cashier and quickly leaves the store, white plastic bag clutched in a hand, change rattling around with his keys in his pocket. The heat in the store had been suffocating after a few minutes (due to Iwaizumi’s brilliant idea to keep his winter jacket perfectly zipped up), and Iwaizumi was relieved - just a little - to be back outside in the frigid air. Iwaizumi relishes the way the cold winter air blew through his slightly sweat damp hair, and how snowflakes fell down the neck of his jacket, a small sting of icy cold for a fleeting moment before they melted on his heated skin. Inhaling deeply, he exhales contentedly, watching as his breath condenses into a white cloud that dispersed upwards in the night sky.

Pleased with the amount of money he had saved at the store, Iwaizumi turns to head home, forgetting the reason that had motivated him to leave his apartment in the first place - until the reason calls him with a familiar voice, a voice he had been longing to hear for so long.

“Iwa-chan…?”

The voice that was rich and smooth, never failing to remind Iwaizumi of chocolate - chocolate the same shade as the hair and eyes of the owner of the voice.

The voice that curled comfortably, almost lovingly, around the childish nickname that he had learned to accept.

Iwaizumi stops in his tracks, whirling around with wide eyes, almost desperately searching for chocolate brown. There was no such thing to be seen. He exhales a short breath, the sound caught between disappointment and relief.

A pair of freezing cold hands slip under the collar of Iwaizumi’s jacket, fingers cold as ice pressing themselves to his neck. Iwaizumi jumps, inhaling sharply in surprise, before wiggling away from the grasping hands. He turns around again, furious, and is finally met with the chocolate brown he had been looking for.

Oikawa stands in front Iwaizumi with his hands held playfully in the air, fluffy chocolate brown hair ruffled with the wind, eyes bright and happy. There’s a cheeky smile stretching his lips, jacket only zipped and buttoned up halfway.

“...Shittykawa.”

“In the flesh,” Oikawa quips with a dramatic bow.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes skyward with a sigh, but his frown is replaced with a small smile. Oikawa’s smile grows into a self satisfied grin, and Iwaizumi reflexively responds with an exaggerated long and suffering sigh before he starts walking with a gruff “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Oikawa immediately asks, curious, falling into step with Iwaizumi.

“To book you a hotel room.”

“ _Wha--_ Iwaaa-channnnn you can’t do this to meee,” Oikawa whines, brown eyes wide with dismay. “I came this far--”

Oikawa suddenly stops talking, narrowing his eyes at Iwaizumi as they walk together through the snow.

“Did you just...laugh?!”

“No,” Iwaizumi replies, expression carefully neutral, lips pressed together.

“You did! I heard you!”

“You need to get your ears checked, then.”

“Iwa-chan’s so meannn--” Oikawa starts, but his whining is interrupted by a sneeze. He sniffles, shivering lightly, before sneezing once more.

“Zip up your jacket,” Iwaizumi snaps.

“Yes, mom,” Oikawa snarks but obediently does as he was told, and Iwaizumi half-heartedly growls warningly.

Iwaizumi shakes snowflakes out of his short, black hair and pulls on his hood, before repeating the same for Oikawa - the brunet makes a small thankful sound and leans into the hands that gently ruffle his hair to remove the snow.

Making sure that Oikawa is bundled up properly, Iwaizumi nods in approval before walking again, discreetly watching the brunet as they walk together in silence, snow falling thick and heavy around them.

Oikawa takes his hands out of his shallow pockets, huffing warm air onto them and rubbing them together in hopes they’ll warm up. He curls his fingers into fists, clenching them tightly. As a setter, his fingers are very important and Oikawa knows that he shouldn’t allow them to freeze.

Exhaling silently, Iwaizumi reaches over, using his knuckles to knock gently against Oikawa’s cold hand. Oikawa stares at Iwaizumi in shock; Iwaizumi keeps his gaze straight forward in determination as he pulls Oikawa’s hand into his deep pocket, entwining their fingers together in the warmth.

A content smile adorns Oikawa’s lips the whole way back to Iwaizumi’s apartment.

 

***

 

“What do you want to eat,” Iwaizumi asks once they’re inside his apartment, shaking the snow off his jacket and hanging it on a hook at the entrance.

“Takeout?” Oikawa hums in consideration, mirroring Iwaizumi’s actions. He trails after Iwaizumi into the apartment, setting his backpack on the floor and flopping down onto Iwaizumi’s sofa.

Iwaizumi makes a vague noise of confirmation, grabbing a stack of takeout menus from a drawer in his kitchen and tossing them to Oikawa. They land scattered on the brunet, who had draped himself all over the sofa.

“Ooh I want ramen.”

Returning from the kitchen with two glasses of water, Iwaizumi places one on the coffee table and nudges it towards Oikawa with a pointed look, sitting down on the floor and taking a sip from his own glass. “Get me those Korean spicy rice cakes and some stir fried noodles,” he says dismissively, rolling his shoulders back with a sigh.

Oikawa ends up calling two different restaurants, voice cheerful and polite, confirming that they would take around half an hour to arrive.

“What’d you get,” Iwaizumi asks, not too curious but not having anything else to say.

“Ramen, onigiri, and spring rolls~”

“You better finish all of that.”

“Yes, yes.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Iwaizumi grunts, “Move over.”

Oikawa emits a confused sound, and doesn’t move an inch.

Standing, Iwaizumi walks over to the sofa, looking down at the brunet’s stretched out form, “Move. Over.”

“No?” Oikawa bravely ventures, tone lilting upwards in the smallest of questions, testing Iwaizumi’s mood.

“You--” Iwaizumi splutters, and Oikawa laughs, teasingly. “I’ll show you--”

They wrestle on the sofa, Iwaizumi attempting to pin Oikawa down, Oikawa wiggling and squirming, pushing hopelessly at Iwaizumi’s shoulders. Iwaizumi abruptly pauses, then slides his hands down, and Oikawa realizes his intentions a few seconds too late.

“W-wait, you wouldn’t--Iwa-chan, don’t, noo--”

Ruthlessly, Iwaizumi tickles Oikawa’s sides, giggles and laughs escaping Oikawa against his will as he desperately writhes around with nowhere to go - he is trapped against the sofa and between Iwaizumi’s legs, eyes watering with how much he was laughing. Iwaizumi doesn’t let up until Oikawa is smacking weakly at his arms and breathlessly pleading for him to stop, leaning back with a smug smile.

Breathing heavily, Oikawa wipes at his eyes with the backs of his hands. He sighs blissfully as he regains his breath, body going soft and pliant - Iwaizumi takes the opportunity to push Oikawa’s legs aside and sits at the end of the sofa.

Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi downs the rest of his glass of water, eyes glued to the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed. Suddenly struck with a craving for water, he grabs his own glass, chugging the contents so quickly, water promptly goes down the wrong way. Coughing loudly, Oikawa hunches forward, and feels Iwaizumi’s strong hand warily thumping his back.

He exhales a long breath of relief when the coughing finally subsided, Iwaizumi’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“You okay?”

“Never better,” Oikawa wheezes.

Iwaizumi huffs an exasperated sigh. “You brought your backpack,” he observes, a light hint of astonishment in his tone.

“Yeah,” Oikawa echoes Iwaizumi’s sigh, “I’ve got a ton of readings to do. Thank God none of my professors gave me any big assignments.”

“Huh,” Iwaizumi muses, “I thought coming here would definitely be an impulsive move from you, who knew you had it all planned.”

“Nah. It actually was impulsive.” Oikawa laughs lightly. “I just had a moment of pure genius and grabbed my bag when I was leaving.”

Iwaizumi scoffs.

“Hey, Iwa-channn, I can borrow your clothes, right~?” Oikawa bats his eyelashes playfully at Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi wonders if Oikawa had planned at least most of it out before he arrived. “What are you thinking about Iwa-chan, you look constipated.”

Turning away from Oikawa, Iwaizumi scowls at the ceiling.

“I can always just not wear any clothes,” Oikawa purrs.

“Don’t walk around naked in my apartment,” Iwaizumi growls, “You better wear clothes.” He frowns, realizing what Oikawa had baited him to say.

Having obtained permission, Oikawa smiles, but it’s unlike any that Iwaizumi had ever seen.

It wasn’t the sharp, teeth baring smile that Iwaizumi always saw on the volleyball court whenever Oikawa faced a challenging opponent, brown eyes lit with a burning desire to win. It wasn’t the perfect, playboy smile that Oikawa used to woo girls left and right, the one that he had most definitely spent time in front of the mirror perfecting. It wasn’t the distant, lips barely upturned smile, the one that Oikawa always gave whenever he wasn’t listening to someone, as a polite wordless apology. It wasn’t the tight lipped smile that was practically a grimace, the one that Iwaizumi only saw whenever Oikawa had a lot on his mind or whenever he was troubled by something. It wasn’t the teeth-sunk-deep-into-bottom-lip smile, where his lips only lift upward for a split second in a horrendous attempt to reassure Iwaizumi that he was okay whenever they lost a match or whenever Oikawa was feeling depressed.

It wasn’t anything extravagant, just the smallest suggestion of upturned lips. But his eyes were so soft and so thrilled with Iwaizumi’s words, as if Iwaizumi had granted his dying wish or something of the same scale, instead of lending clothes.

In fact, with that expression, it looked like Oikawa was in _love._

Iwaizumi adverts his gaze, cheeks warming, just as the doorbell rings. He bolts upright, mumbles a quick _I’ll get it,_ and practically runs to the door, pausing to grab his wallet along the way.

After paying for all the food and thanking the delivery people, Iwaizumi returns to the kitchen, setting down the bags.

Eagerly, Oikawa races into the kitchen, sniffing the air and sighing in bliss. “Smells good~”

“Sit down, eat before it gets cold.”

Oikawa makes not a hint of protest and quickly plops down on a chair across from Iwaizumi, accepting the warm styrofoam containers Iwaizumi pushes in his direction. He methodically adds the soup of the ramen he had ordered back with the ramen (they arrived in separate containers to avoid having the noodles getting soggy) in a single container, and proceeds to inhale the ramen as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

With the speed that Iwaizumi ate his stir fried noodles and Oikawa his ramen, it was as if they were racing against each other to see who could finish their noodles first. They ate in near silence, the only sounds being the scratching of their utensils against the styrofoam containers and the occasional appreciative hum.

Iwaizumi finishes first, setting the empty container aside and popping open the other. He spears a spicy rice cake with a plastic fork, biting into it and sighing with pleasure.

Swallowing the last mouthful of the ramen soup, Oikawa licks his lips before opening the rest of his containers, munching on a spring roll. With a sly smile, he reaches across the table, slipping Iwaizumi’s plastic fork from his grasp and stealing a rice cake. Iwaizumi produces an annoyed sound, but doesn’t make a move to stop bites of his dinner from being stolen - instead, he swipes a few spring rolls from Oikawa, chewing thoughtfully.

The rest of their dinner passes by much more eventfully than before. They both consume more of what the other had ordered than their own, continuously reaching across the table to take from containers that could’ve easily been pulled closer for more convenient access.

Oikawa eats more than half of Iwaizumi’s rice cakes, occasionally holding one out for Iwaizumi to eat and grinning impishly whenever it was grudgingly accepted. Iwaizumi retaliates by finishing Oikawa’s spring rolls and Oikawa complains for a moment before shrugging dismissively, eating even more rice cakes, but Iwaizumi seizes his fork back. Having regained possession of his rice cakes, Iwaizumi eats, ignoring Oikawa until he gets frustrated by the brunet’s whining and feeds Oikawa a few.

They end up peacefully sharing the onigiri, chewing on bites of rice with seasonings and fillings while they share details about how their classes were, how the people at their universities were, how their professors were, just about anything they could think of to talk about.

It’s well over 11PM - the food having been long gone and the empty containers disposed of - by the time Oikawa yawns for the first time, Iwaizumi following suit.

“Tired?”

“No!” Oikawa responds, dramatically indignant.

Iwaizumi sighs, sounding exactly like a disapproving parent, standing up from his seat and running a hand through his hair. “Go take a shower.”

“But Iwa-chaaan…”

Not bothering to repeat himself, Iwaizumi simply leaves the kitchen, sitting down on the sofa in his living room; he pulls out his phone, tapping at the screen.

With a pout and one last childish whine, Oikawa moves to do as he was told, dragging his feet as much as he could. After selecting a sweater that was sure to be large on him and what looked to be extremely comfortable branded sweatpants from Iwaizumi’s room (he pays much less attention towards underwear, randomly grabbing a pair of Iwaizumi’s boxers from the drawer), Oikawa continues to the bathroom with much more enthusiasm and cheer than before.

He happily hums as he slides his clothes off, leaving them scattered all over the floor, and sings softly as he takes his shower. Oikawa pretends the water running down his face is rain, his voice taking on a gentle sorrowful lilt, the once happy song turning into sad melancholy.

From outside the bathroom, Iwaizumi pads silently to the door, listening for a minute; he moves back to the sofa without a sound, frowning lightly.

When Oikawa exits the bathroom in a cloud of steam, towel over his shoulders to catch the water dripping from his hair and a pile of dirty clothes in one hand, Iwaizumi leaps up from the sofa almost guiltily, pushing past Oikawa into the bathroom.

Never would he ever like to utter the fact that Oikawa’s soft, smooth, and rhythmical singing had been replayed repeatedly by his traitorous brain the whole time the brunet had been in the shower. Occasionally, it would be accompanied by an image (quite unhelpfully provided by his brain - at this point Iwaizumi is quite ready to question if it even was his own brain) of water sliding off shoulders that were not quite as broad as his own, flowing down a curved lean back, dripping off a perk round ass, and running down beautiful sculpted legs.

The first five minutes of Iwaizumi’s shower is icy cold, his forehead pressed against the cold tiles as freezing water pours over his head, slithering down his back between his shoulder blades. He gradually adjusts the temperature up to a more acceptable level for a shower and groans softly as it beats down on his shoulders, soothing the sore muscles. Turning his face to the spray, Iwaizumi enjoys the feeling of hot water pelting his face for a few moments with closed eyes before continuing on with his usual shower routine.

A catchy, upbeat sounding song with heavy bass and sentimentally poetic lyrics about love that Iwaizumi had heard on the radio a few days ago sneaks into his mind, and he unconsciously begins humming it under his breath. An unexpected chill caresses the back of his neck - he shivers lightly and sneezes, the sound tiny and slightly squeaky, like a kitten’s sneeze.

There’s a _thud_ and a muffled yelp from outside the bathroom; Iwaizumi blinks, surprised, and sneezes again. He stays under the hot water for an extra five minutes after his usual shower time, basking in the warmth.

When Iwaizumi steps out of the shower, he finally realizes his frantic dash into the bathroom earlier left him with no clothes to wear. Thank all the gods in the sky for the fact that Iwaizumi leaves his towel in his bathroom, or else he would be streaking to his room stark naked. Although, having just a towel around his waist was not exactly any better, Iwaizumi thought wryly.

Nonetheless, he spends a good minute tying one of the largest towels that he had in the bathroom around his waist and making sure that it was secure. Even though he wanted to run clutching the towel like his life depended on it, Iwaizumi calmly strides out, shoulders back and head proudly held up high. His brain incessantly screeches at him to hold onto the towel but he continues walking - albeit a little stiffly, unsure what to do with his arms - toward his bedroom.

Oikawa bravely eyes Iwaizumi, gaze following a large bead of water dripping down the sharp jawline, down the column of his neck, dipping into the valley of his collarbone, sliding down the center of his chest, tracing along the indents of his abs, down through his belly button, before it disappears under the towel. When Iwaizumi turns his back to Oikawa - no doubt nervously grabbing at his towel to make sure it doesn’t slip - the brunet ogles his backside, marvelling at the firm calves.

Iwaizumi shivers lightly, and Oikawa immediately shifts his attention to Iwaizumi’s prominent back muscles that rippled with the light movement of his shoulders. Oikawa’s greatly disappointed when Iwaizumi leaves his line of sight.

In his bedroom, Iwaizumi closes the door silently behind him, stretching his arms towards the ceiling and sighing in relief. Oikawa’s calculating gaze had been burning multiple holes through him - it was exactly like whenever Oikawa saw a tough opponent on the volleyball court and would watch them ruthlessly until he broke them down. Iwaizumi hoped that Oikawa had not been analyzing him and searching for his weaknesses.

As Iwaizumi pulls on his clothes and frets about Oikawa potentially using his lightly dressed (more like undressed) self to develop tactics against him in volleyball, Oikawa is sitting shell shocked in place on the floor, mentally drooling over the sight he had just witnessed. For Oikawa, although he trained just as much as Iwaizumi - his pride quipped _more_ \- his body remained slender, with no prominent definition of muscles. He loved his wonderfully lean physique, but no man their age wouldn’t be envious of Iwaizumi’s sculpted body.

Oikawa wonders how it would feel to run his hands down Iwaizumi’s chest, to feel the muscles tense under his fingers. How would it feel to slide his hands up Iwaizumi’s back, or down the dip of his spine? (Perhaps Oikawa had a muscle kink. Perhaps it was just an Iwaizumi kink.)

Once Iwaizumi leaves his room, dressed in an outfit almost identical to Oikawa’s, the brunet hops lightly up from his sitting position, pushing Iwaizumi toward the sofa.

Taken off guard, Iwaizumi provides little resistance, allowing himself to be pushed onto his back. He grunts, slightly winded, when Oikawa plops his whole body weight on top of him.

“What do you think you’re doing,” Iwaizumi growls, green eyes narrowed. The low rumble of his voice and half lidded angry glare of his eyes only served as the final push to Oikawa, who finally does what he’d only been imagining for quite some time.

Iwaizumi makes a _hmph--!?_ sound of shock against Oikawa’s lips, body tensing under the brunet’s hands. Oikawa’s tongue is skilled and eager to please, delicately coaxing Iwaizumi’s lips apart. When they finally yield, almost reluctantly, to Oikawa’s ministrations, he wastes no time, boldly curling his tongue against Iwaizumi’s.

A tiny whine escapes Iwaizumi, the sound ringing with denial, and Oikawa instantly sits up, eyes guilty. Oikawa only catches a glimpse of Iwaizumi’s face - he looked dazed - before Iwaizumi threw an arm over his eyes, blocking his expression from view. Resting his hands on his thighs, Oikawa watches Iwaizumi’s lips, straining to catch any clues that might reveal his mood.

Iwaizumi’s lips are slightly parted as he simply breathes for a minute, chest rising and falling evenly. He sinks his teeth into his plump bottom lip, tugging at the soft flesh. Oikawa’s eyes hungrily follow the movement, but it leaves him just as confused as Iwaizumi seemed to be feeling; so he remains remorsefully silent, and waits for Iwaizumi to make the first move.

After a few long minutes of silence and no movement whatsoever from the two (other than breathing), Oikawa sincerely fears that Iwaizumi had fallen asleep. “Iwa...chan…?”

“Hn.” Iwaizumi removes his arm from over his eyes, gazing up at Oikawa expectantly.

“I…” Oikawa hesitates, gritting his teeth, before plowing on, “I’m sorry I--” He suddenly realizes that his whole apology would be redundant if he didn’t vacate his spot on top of Iwaizumi.

Carefully, he swings a leg back over Iwaizumi, kneeling on the very edge of the sofa with a leg. He places a hand on a small patch of sofa that wasn’t covered by Iwaizumi’s body, and hops off the sofa.

That was what he would have done, if not for Iwaizumi firmly grabbing his arm and forcing back into his straddling position. Oikawa pulls vainly against the strong grip on his wrist, whining, “Iwa-chan, I’m in the middle of apologizing right now.”

“Then stop.”

Shocked into silence, Oikawa gapes down at Iwaizumi, mouth open.

When Iwaizumi pushes Oikawa down toward the sofa, he immediately yields, flopping onto his back and giggling. He playfully wrestles back against Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi obliges, collapsing back with an exaggerated defeated sound.  
  
Iwaizumi's eyes run down Oikawa's body with laser sharp focus, the brunet squirming restlessly under his gaze.  
  
The sweater (Iwaizumi's) that Oikawa is wearing fits perfectly for the sleeves, but sits just a little too wide on his shoulders, exposing a teasingly small glimpse of the skin above his collarbones. Since Oikawa was taller than Iwaizumi, the pants borrowed from Iwaizumi were short, ending centimeters above the brunet's ankles.  
  
Not that he minded, of course.

"Hm."  
  
"What?" Oikawa tilts his head to the side. 

Iwaizumi simply nods, satisfied. He kisses Oikawa again, slow and relaxed, pulling him down until their chests were pressed together.  
  
The brunet sighs happily, pressing his nose to Iwaizumi's neck. He shivers when he feels a warm tongue lick lightly at his neck, and outright moans when he feels fingers slide into his hair and tug gently.  
  
Mildly shocked at Oikawa's reaction, Iwaizumi adds more force, until the brunet obediently tips his head back. Attaching his lips to the slender column of Oikawa's neck, he bites lightly at the soft skin, sucking hard enough to bruise. He leaves a few more darkening bruises down Oikawa's neck before switching targets, moving up and blowing on the shell of Oikawa's ear on a sudden whim.

Yelping, Oikawa claps a hand to his ear, flushing crimson, and promptly falls off the sofa with an undignified squeaking sound.

Alarmed, Iwaizumi twists to peer down at Oikawa, who had fallen onto his back but quickly rolls onto his stomach, almost hitting the coffee table.

"You okay?" Iwaizumi asks, genuinely concerned.

Oikawa groans loudly in false agony, face buried in his folded arms. "Iwa-chan, I want to die."

"Not in my apartment, thanks."

 

***

 

Oikawa yawns for the fourteenth time in twenty minutes, and Iwaizumi has _had_ it. The constant yawns he catches from Oikawa has him feeling more tired and irritated than he already was, and it wasn’t helping him focus on the frankly quite dry reading in front of him.

 _Dryer than a desert,_ Iwaizumi sighs to himself.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Oikawa yawn yet again, and Iwaizumi does the same not even five seconds later. The brunet’s gaze is a heavy weight on his skin, and Iwaizumi feels self conscious about his glasses once again.

When Iwaizumi had first taken out his glasses and slid them into place in a smooth motion, Oikawa had simply sat and stared (maybe drooled a little), frozen in what seemed to be shock.

“What,” Iwaizumi had growled, defensive.

“Wow,” Oikawa had replied, breathless.

They had left it at that, silently agreeing to focus on anything except each other and the topic of Iwaizumi’s glasses.

Oikawa yawns, and Iwaizumi is one second away from snapping; the brunet blinked, scrunched up his nose for another yawn, and _that’s it._

“Bed, now,” Iwaizumi snarls.

“Wow Iwa-chan, what a way--”

Sharp olive green eyes glare pointed daggers at Oikawa, who snaps his mouth shut mid sentence.

“I...I’ll go take out my contacts,” the brunet meekly suggests. He rummaged through his bag for a few moments, collecting all that he needed, then scurries into Iwaizumi’s bathroom.

Iwaizumi stands and stretches languidly, humming in satisfaction as his joints crack, stiff from sitting still on the sofa for so long.

When Oikawa reappears, face freshly washed and thick framed blue glasses perched on his nose, Iwaizumi is already standing and padding toward his bedroom. The brunet trails hesitantly after him, eyes lowered, and flinches when Iwaizumi suddenly stops and turns around.

“It’s okay, right.”

Oikawa frowns, unable to make out Iwaizumi’s low mumbling. “...What?”

“It’s okay, right,” Iwaizumi mumbles louder, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “...I can take the sofa if--”

"No!"

Iwaizumi ducks his head lower, expression unreadable, and Oikawa hastens to explain.

“No, don’t sleep on the sofa,” the brunet whispers, embarrassed, “We can share...the bed.”

Shocked and hopeful green eyes meet Oikawa’s brown for a split second before they slide to the side, Iwaizumi muttering a gruff “Okay.”

They place folded blankets under pillows by the headboard to prop themselves up in a reclining seated position, settling side by side with a ruler length of space between them on the queen sized bed.

While Iwaizumi immediately focuses on the textbook in his lap, brows gently furrowed in concentration, Oikawa takes the opportunity to watch him for a few moments. Iwaizumi’s glasses are a shock to Oikawa - he must have gotten them relatively recently, for Oikawa had never seen him wear glasses before - the slender black frames stopped halfway down the lenses, giving Iwaizumi a smart look. The lenses themselves were small rectangles, about half the size of Oikawa’s own large, almost square lenses.

They reminded Oikawa of something a math teacher, or perhaps a government worker, would wear.

_Someone incredibly smart._

Blinking rapidly as if it would banish the warmth on his cheeks, Oikawa forces himself to begin reading his own textbook, a comfortably studious atmosphere settling in the room.

 

***

 

A few hours pass by before Iwaizumi is nearly asleep, words blurring in front of his unfocused eyes and head nodding forward so often, he almost looked like a bobblehead toy. He pushes his fingers under his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and frowning.

Gently nudging his glasses back into place, Iwaizumi blinks slowly a few times in an effort to remain awake, pushing down his urge to yawn. Iwaizumi turns to the other side of his bed, prepared to ask Oikawa if he was finished studying for the night, so he could turn off the light and they could sleep.

However, Oikawa is already asleep, body curled towards Iwaizumi, cheek pressed to the pillow sitting atop their blanket fortress. His glasses are smushed what looks to be rather uncomfortably against his face, and his textbook is slipping from his slack grip.

Curious, Iwaizumi glances down at Oikawa’s textbook. Small bolded words - _Chapter 8_ \- stare back at him from the top inner corner of the page, and Iwaizumi realizes that Oikawa had read well over what he had been assigned.

 _My professor wants me to read chapters 4 AND 5 in one night. That’s not even possible, I’ll die of boredom,”_ the brunet had whined.

Iwaizumi exhales a short, amused laugh, the irony of the situation bringing a smile to his lips. His own textbook was also open to chapter 8, and he had also been assigned two chapters of reading.

Carefully, Iwaizumi removes Oikawa’s glasses and takes his textbook, stacking the two textbooks together on his bedside cabinet. Their glasses rest on top of the textbooks, and Iwaizumi smiles once again, tiny and secretive, at such a domestic sight.

He pulls the blanket up, turns off the light, and goes to sleep with a lingering feeling of happiness.

 

***

 

Iwaizumi wakes to the feeling of something _wrong._

He keeps his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, senses on high alert. When he hears the shaky inhaling of breath attempting to mimic deep and calming ones, Iwaizumi’s eyes fly open.

Anyone with sense would know that sound - the sound of someone trying their hardest not to break down sobbing.

Still partially asleep, Iwaizumi forces himself to sit up, hands automatically going up to cup teary cheeks, thumbs immediately working to wipe salty tears away.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi whispers, voice low and rough and raspy from sleep, “Oikawa.”

Silent tears roll down flushed cheeks, Oikawa’s teeth sunk deep into his bottom lip to hold back his sobs. His brown eyes stare blankly ahead, looking but not seeing. He inhales shuddering breaths, body shaking as he forces himself not to shatter into tiny pieces, tries to hold himself together.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi tries again, voice soft and gentle, just a bit more insistent. He doesn’t bother to clear his throat. No time for that. “Oikawa,” he breathes, face creasing in worry and frustration when there’s no response.

Iwaizumi bites his own lip. He has two options.

Bring Oikawa back from the edge.

Or push him over.

How could he choose?

_Easy. He doesn’t._

“Oikawa, hey,” Iwaizumi softly coos, “Oikawa. Look at me. I’m here.”

Oikawa shudders, blinks.

“That’s it, come on,” Iwaizumi encourages, “Look at me.” He rubs small circles over Oikawa’s cheekbones, heart bleeding over how the tears never stop. “Oikawa--” Iwaizumi is suddenly stuck with an idea, “ _Tooru,_ look at me.”

Brown eyes widening, Oikawa blinks, looks straight at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi smiles, soft and tender, leaning closer - slowly and hesitantly, as if he was approaching a wild animal. His lips meet Oikawa’s, and he tastes salt before he pulls back.

_You can choose._

Oikawa blinks, lashes wet and clumping together, glittering moonlight filtering in from a gap in the blinds behind him glinting prettily off the tear tracks on his cheeks.

Iwaizumi’s gaze is warm and understanding, posture relaxed and open. _I won’t ask. I’m here for you._

Knowing that Iwaizumi is there to put him back together again, Oikawa throws himself off the edge. He ruthlessly breaks himself into microscopic pieces so small, he’s sure he’ll come out being a whole different person. But that’s fine.

He’ll break himself as often as it takes, as often as he needs to. And it’s fine.

It’s fine, because he has someone to put him back together again, better than before.


End file.
